


Body of Work

by KJGooding



Series: Post-Canon Trill Revival [7]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Autistic Julian Bashir, Bad Parents; Good Friends, Birthday Party, Canon Autistic Character, Ezri and Elim form an alliance to make sure he never comes back again, Family Reunions, Found Family, Gen, Multi, POV Julian Bashir, Post-Canon Cardassia, Richard Bashir is a really awful person and I cringed while I wrote this, Trans Julian Bashir
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:53:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22339588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KJGooding/pseuds/KJGooding
Summary: After a tense confrontation, Julian must accept his identity and achievements as completely separate from his father's dismissive alterations.  He is careful not to make projects of the people he cares about - including his daughter, Rali, and one of his spouses, Ezri.However, when Ezri experiences debilitating interference from Dax and her mechanical symbiont, she calls on Julian to find a solution - but it is not an immediate fix.  She must teach herself how to be a patient of therapy, rather than its administrator, after serving the entire ailing population of her home-world for years.And, of course, there are long-overdue birthdays and reunions to celebrate on Cardassia.
Relationships: Julian Bashir & Ezri Dax, Julian Bashir/Ezri Dax/Elim Garak
Series: Post-Canon Trill Revival [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1251704
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	Body of Work

**2382**

At that time, I was still getting used to some of the trees on Cardassia Prime - the  _ bur  _ especially. Regardless of the season, their bark is frail and white, peeling off and falling to the ground even more prolifically than its leaves do. I am told its leaves had a reddish tint to them, prior to the Dominion invasion. Now, of course, they must conduct their photosynthesis through a haze, and the result is sickly, but rugged, and in many ways perfectly appropriate for its surroundings. In any case, it was more pleasant to sit beneath a falling snow of  _ bur  _ bark than one of dust and the ashy reduction of buildings. 

We walked the full perimeter of the  _ Rekess  _ preserve to find the most concentrated growth of these trees, and selected a patch of five to host our picnic beneath. The school term on Cardassia used to be year-round, with only a single day off in each of their months, but we had made some much-needed adjustments and, therefore, were in the midst of our winter holiday. The weather was cool and windy but not inclement, making it enjoyable for Rali to sit outdoors for the first time in months; Trill prefer it cold, with the exception of Symbiotic caves and tide-pools. 

The picnic was held in partial celebration of Rali’s fifth birthday, which - according to a rotating calendar from  _ Deep Space Nine _ , where she was born - would have occurred several weeks in the past. But on Cardassia the winter season was tapered in favor of the summer, and the days themselves existed in different lengths than the Bajoran base system used - and which the station borrowed - and… really, in the grand scheme of things, it did not make much difference. I was reminded of the Prophetic voices against linear time, as a concept, and the way Trill symbionts seemed to exist as perpetual, immortal beings, and it simply stopped mattering. Rali certainly looked excited to be the cause of celebration, anyway, even if she could not articulate her birth _ day  _ as any recurring value, but as its original stardate and nothing more. It did not matter. 

Elim found an impressive assortment of chocolates from an international vendor, Kelas calmly sat down with her to arrange her hair into braids before shearing it off - she preferred it short like her mother’s, and… I suppose like mine, although Bajoran regulation was less strict about appearances than the Federation was, and mine had gone unkempt in the past few months - and I painted with her to keep her pleasantly distracted, even though I trusted Kelas not to draw any tears. 

She enjoyed Cardassian cosmetic paint, thick and heavily pigmented to render it long-lasting on skin, and I showed her how to dilute it in a bucket of transparent gel, which she  _ loved  _ sticking her hand in. The end result was an even thicker paint, malleable almost like clay, which she squeezed through her fingers and then pressed gleefully against my chest. We were adequately outfitted for the occasion - Elim had made us all aprons for crafting and cloth napkins for dining - so I did not mind. 

I asked her what she was painting and received no answer, but that did not bother me. Instead I watched more intently, giving her a laugh and a smile when she decided my chin and nose needed painting, too. The gel was cold, like the replicator’s poor recreation of shaving cream, and so I wiped it off and returned the favor in kind. Rali howled with laughter when I put a dollop of the gel on the tip of her nose, and she quieted again when I brought my face in closer, nuzzling her and smearing the paint between us, rather than wiping it off. 

It was Elim who interrupted us, tutting his tongue as if he disapproved. As I leaned back enough to see him clearly in context, I saw this was only because Kelas was nearby preparing their shears, although these were still safely wrapped in leather. Haircuts were certainly a challenging enough ordeal for many individuals on the autism spectrum, and they didn’t need me making it any more difficult for Rali to sit still. Fortunately, she always loved the end result, but the sound of electric clippers unsettled her; shears were slightly better, and we found making her hair into a few braids beforehand would limit the number of necessary cuts to finish the procedure. 

“Oh, you’ll like the decorations this time, sweetheart,” I said encouragingly; this was part of the intrigue… she could only see the braids when they were in her hands, and not on the back of her head. 

She straightened her shoulders and sat nice and still in anticipation. I watched little curled bits of the  _ bur  _ tree peel away from the trunk, fluttering down to land on her shoulder, and she did not move in the slightest. I  _ adored  _ her. 

Elim offered her a chocolate. 

“When I’m finished,” she said, with her mouth barely opening to speak. 

_ Snip _ , and one of the braids fell into Kelas’s waiting hand. Then the next, then the next, until all six were cut free. 

“You  _ star _ ,” Kelas praised, patting her head when they were finished. 

She never knew what to do with terms of endearment, but Kelas did not mind it, and they let her go. 

As promised, she made her choice from the case of chocolates Elim brought, and then she came to sit beside me. My role was to wash her hair after it was cut, and today I did so while she admired the jewels Kelas had woven into the braids, and took small samples from the chocolate-box and from her lunch tray. She liked to tip her head backward while I poured water over it, and I had to dissuade her calmly from doing so. She had gotten water in her nose before and not fully understood that  _ this  _ was contributing to her sudden difficulty breathing. But  _ sweetwater _ was where the symbionts lived, and I held her head forward gently while I spoke to redirect her. 

“We have two other gifts for you, Rali,” I said. “They’re not decorated gifts, they’re listening gifts. Are you ready?”

After a third chocolate - ‘decorated’ to capacity and filled with _feyt_ bean coulis - she agreed that yes, she was ready, with the most subtle nod of her head. 

“One: Dax and Kahn are going to have a baby. Another symbiont. And two: you’re going to meet it very soon, because  _ tonight  _ your mum is coming here to see you and get you ready to go, um, home-home…”

Rali did not vocalize an answer, but I had become adept enough at reading her facial expressions. It was not a skill I ever thought I’d master - beyond someone clearly being in pain, of course - but hers were… stunted, all more conscious and deliberate than anyone else’s… and familiar to me since her birth, of course. Her eyes widened and her lips parted, and then she cast her gaze down in reverence. 

“Soon,” I told her, absolutely thrilled to see her smile. 

***

That night, as promised, Ezri transported down from a shuttle and met Elim and I in the front garden. I had put Rali to bed, assuring her she could see Ezri only after  _ both  _ of them got some sleep. And Kelas was on a series of overnight shifts at the hospital. 

Ezri yawned and stretched her arms out, rolled her wrists, and said a quiet hello. 

“I can’t sleep on shuttles even  _ with  _ the prescription, I just--” she began apologizing. 

“That’s alright. We have the guest room ready for you, darling--”

She rolled her eyes, also conveniently moving them up and back enough to see me, and she gave a little chuckle. 

“Thank you,” she said. “I appreciate it. And Garak?”

Ezri turned fully now, to face him, and I watched them both with a deep sense of satisfaction. 

“Thank  _ you _ ,” she went on. “For writing to me. That was… I really needed that.”

She offered her arm forward, and when Elim took it, she returned the grasp in true Cardassian fashion, gripping his forearm and sliding down to his wrist, showing respect. 

“The pleasure was all mine,” Elim said, glancing down at her hand, entwined with his own. 

“We’re happy to help you get some rest,” I insisted more than offered, leading the way inside and up the stairs. 

Ezri condensed all she needed to one case, which she wore over her shoulder, and she held it close against her side as we went in, keeping it from making any noise. She set it down just inside the threshold of the guest bedroom, then promptly went to bed. 

***

The following morning, I tried to limit myself to only a few questions about the current affairs on Trill - which Ezri patiently answered - while we made gradual introductions between her and Rali. Of course, Rali was thrilled the moment she saw her mother, even from down the hallway and all the way across the dining room, but it was our intention to make the changes  _ slowly _ . A little at a time. The reality was she was young and unable to live with both of us simultaneously, and Ezri deemed it best - in her professional opinion - to carefully monitor how we allotted our attention when we were all together. The majority of this was undone when Rali ran down the hall to meet her, obviously, but… we had at least made an attempt. I went to have breakfast in the other room; maybe the full, sudden attention of her mother was what she preferred, and there was no use in being upset over it. I knew she loved both of us, had a strong connection to both of us from her infancy, and was being raised in an unconventional and far from perfect way, but it was difficult at times. 

When Ezri came to meet me at the Medical center - I had packed my breakfast, in the end, and taken it to warm up and eat in my office - she was absolutely  _ glowing _ . Beauty like hers was often more casual than radiant, more approachable than otherworldly, but then, even with her hair mussed and a trace of sweat on her brow and the faintest crinkles beneath her eyes, she looked  _ enchanting  _ to me. It was not so long since I had fallen in love with her, not  _ really _ ...

I cleared my throat and invited her to sit in the desk chair. Then I moved aside my empty porridge bowl, setting the spoon inside it, and brought my half-emptied cup of tea to the foreground. 

“Now, er… as you’ll understand, physical therapy isn’t my primary discipline, but I’m aware of a few highly-regarded techniques.”

Ezri nodded, hanging on every word. 

“I know you were unable to write legibly, but are there functions you  _ can  _ complete adequately with your right hand, at this stage?”

She considered this for a moment, and I knew her well enough to know that she did not want to say ‘no.’ There must have been  _ something _ \- she would not give up so easily - and she scoured her brain to find it. 

“I can hold things. We’ve been doing a lot of reading at home, out of  _ books _ instead of the padd… and I think I can support the weight with either hand,” she eventually said. 

Well, that was certainly a satisfactory starting point. 

“That’s very good,” I said. “Would you bring your hands forward for me, please? Both of them. I want you to make fists  _ slowly _ , then uncurl your fingers…”

As I gave the instructions, she followed at a natural delay - hearing each step before completing it. I watched her hands form fists, with the right slightly shaky compared to the left, and then watched her fingers move outward again, almost in slow motion. 

“And you haven’t noticed any other discomfort, which might be a result of the artificial symbiont’s placement?” I asked. “Any tenderness inside the pleural cavity, or externally - behind or between your breasts?”

“No.”

“ _ Any  _ other signs at all that some element of Dax’s memories may be influencing you? Taste preferences in food or drink, or perhaps some… some detail of your intimacy with Lenara?”

“...No, I don’t think so.”

“That’s fine,” I said, making a conscious effort not to sound envious. I  _ wasn’t _ , but something in her expression suggested  _ she thought I was _ , and she usually could tell more about my feelings than I could, so I proceeded carefully. “Then I won’t plan on modifying its mechanical components. We should be able to make some progress with just therapeutic exercises, for the time being, and then you can continue the regimen at home.”

“Perfect.”

“Now if you’ll… pick up my tea cup, please. By the handle, using however many fingers you need to lift it.”

Her voice was light when she replied - while slowly bringing her hand forward again - and I dropped any fear of her being offended. I’d probably just embarrassed her, caught her off guard with questions like that!

“Well, I’m glad it’s not coffee,” she teased. “How long until I’m writing my name legibly,  _ Doctor _ ?”

“I’ll be able to give you an estimate just as soon as you give me my tea,  _ darling _ . Do you think you can put it into  _ my  _ grip without dropping it? I need to gauge your dexterity as well as your hand-eye-coordination, and from there I can make some projections regarding your  _ mental  _ coordination, and any delay in your responses.”

“Or you just want me to serve you breakfast.”

“No, that’s not it,” I said, grinning. 

She was too, and I did not feel bad about it. We simply smiled at each other and looked down - as if both of us were spectators - as she moved her hand slowly and clumsily toward mine. She completed the transfer after what felt like ages - an excruciatingly long period of six seconds, in reality - and only caused the liquid inside to splash up over the rim once. When some of it landed on my wrist she nearly dropped the cup altogether, concerned for my safety, but I assured her the tea had cooled, and that she should continue until the task was done.

“Right,” she said. “Thank you.”

“Thank  _ you _ ,” I said, with the cup now firmly lodged into my own grip.

Purely for her amusement, I took a sip from it, then set it back down in between us. 

“Honestly,” I went on, “that’s very good for a first attempt. We should be able to get you down to thinner items and finer motor control in a few days.”

“A few  _ days _ .”

“I’m not a magician. I’m not even a physical therapist.”

“No, I meant that’s  _ great _ . I thought I’d have to stay a few  _ weeks _ .”

“Only if you want to.”

“Well I’m  _ going to _ ; I need to, for Rali’s party. Even though it’s  _ ridiculously  _ hot. I thought you said this was winter?”

I still had reservations about the first part of her statement. 

“Party?” I asked. 

“Yeah, for Rali’s birthday. I thought Garak would’ve told you, by now.”

“Well, the three of us just  _ did _ a party for her yesterday evening.”

“I wanted an excuse to get everyone back together,” this added little substance to her explanation. “I thought he would’ve told you; I sent it in a letter about a week ago. I’m sorry, I know you don’t like surprise parties, and that was  _ not  _ my intention.”

“No, no, that’s-- that could be nice. I have nothing against parties! As long as they’re... quiet.”

“Of course. I explained in the holo-invitations. I said ‘the best gift you can give our daughter is a peaceful evening.’”

I had to smile at  _ that _ . 

“And that’s scheduled for a few weeks from now, is it?” I led.

“Yeah. Garak has it on a Cardassian calendar, or I can give you a stardate if you still use them.”

“No, that’s fine. I think I can take at least a partial surprise.”

“Good. It’ll be fun.”

“I’m sure it will be. Now, let’s see if we can’t get you to lift a spoon. Let me get you a clean one from the replicator…”

***

As it turned out, the spoon was where Ezri’s real problems began. 

She could curl all of her fingers together with sufficient control to lift plates, books, cups… but as soon as she needed to use them for something more detailed, it was as if the motor-response connection was severed. Her hand suddenly adopted a tremor, and her fingers refused to cooperate. 

We had to dedicate two days to first picking up the spoon, before she even began using it to feed herself. At intervals, she would swap the utensil to her left hand and continue with perfect dexterity, but a scowl on her face. 

“I can take a look into the symbiont’s mechanism,” I offered, but her expression did not change. “...Unless you’re  _ sure  _ it isn’t having any impact on the rest of your daily life.”

“It isn’t.”

“What about the party?” I pressed on, unconvinced. “Remember, at breakfast this morning - you were there - when I asked Elim about it? He didn’t seem to know the first thing about planning a party.”

Ezri shrugged. The two of us were taking a brief recess from repetitive exercises, and I had to stand and move my own hands to extend some of my pent up energy. 

“He’s a better liar than I am, that’s all. I  _ know  _ I told him about it. I gave him the headcount for dinner.”

“He might’ve misinterpreted  _ that _ , especially with all the talking we’ve been doing about the reform on Trill.”

“Uh huh, sure. Naturally he’d think about an assassination contract instead of a birthday party for his step daughter, I’m  _ sure  _ that’s it.”

I sat back down and opened my uppermost desk drawer, sorting through it for a set of shears. Of course I kept surgical instruments in their own sanitary confinement zones, but I kept a set within easy reach for emergencies; generally these cut through clothing and restraints, and I was pleased they no longer found themselves useful in removing civilians from the rubble of collapsed buildings. 

I opened and shut them a few times myself before setting them down in front of Ezri.

“Or it could just be some remnant of Dax’s personality,” I said, more seriously. “I know Jadzia always planned those  _ massive  _ surprise birthday parties for me. She tried to get me a few professional recognition awards, too, without telling me beforehand.”

“That’s not really my style. I  _ definitely  _ told him. Will you relax?”

“I am relaxed, I’m simply trying to diagnose a problem. Now… can you pick these up? They’re designed for ambidextrous use, dull side down.”

“I can’t even use a spoon, and you want me to use scissors?”

“I want you to try a range of motions within the same session, to lessen the repeated stress on the same tendons. You’ll find this makes you  _ slightly  _ less sore by the end of the day, if you’re insistent on not using a brace.”

“Yeah, no brace unless I absolutely need it. I know I’m gonna be sore.”

“Right. That’s all up to you.”

“Thank you.”

I tipped my head forward in silent indication of the shears, and Ezri sighed again before reaching to grab them. Her grip was still far from steady, and it took nearly a minute for her to align her fingers into the two separate, semi-circular handles. But she  _ could  _ hold them, and she made them  _ click  _ open and shut several times. 

“You think I  _ need  _ a brace, don’t you?” she asked, after putting them down again. 

“What? No, I don’t.”

“It seems kinda hopeless, that’s all.”

“It’s nothing that can’t be accommodated,” I said, in a steady tone. “I appreciate you wanting to overcome this for yourself, as long as you recognize it  _ might  _ be a permanent part of you. It might be something you need to live with and manage.”

We were sitting close enough for me to see the tears forming in the corners of her eyes, red and angry. 

“It isn’t strictly a physical disability,” I said, even though that fact should not have deterred her. “It’s a manageable mental condition… like one might live with depression, or anxiety, or even psychosis. The Federation, especially, has been incorporating assistive devices for its citizens for  _ over a century _ .”

“I don’t want to look like  _ I  _ can’t control the signals coming out of  _ my own brain _ ,” she said, exasperated. “How would  _ that  _ look to my patients? The artificial symbiont was  _ supposed  _ to be the only assistive device I needed, just to keep the symbiotic nerves stimulated and the blood flowing correctly, and whatever else, and I’m--  _ ugh _ . I’m sorry, I know it’s the first one you made and I wasn’t ready for Joining in the first place - like, Lenara seems to be using her artificial symbiont just  _ fine  _ \- but it’s… I’m supposed to be leading my whole  _ planet  _ of therapy patients by example, and I  _ can’t do that like this _ . Look at me.”

She held up both hands, nothing more, and her meaning was perfectly clear. I took the right one between both of mine, simply holding it still at first, but then beginning a hesitant massage of the affected tendons. Or at least I could call it that, if she pressed me for a reason. I wanted her to feel reassured, calm, anything but  _ broken _ . She whimpered at the application of too much pressure, so I lightened my touch, looked into her eyes, and then continued at a slower pace. 

“From what I can remember about my childhood,” I began quietly, “I was  _ elsewhere  _ on the autism spectrum. And my parents’ idea of ‘managing’ it was all wrong. They preferred to just erase that part of me and start over. But that  _ isn’t  _ the answer, and anyway it didn’t actually  _ erase  _ anything. They didn’t change the way my brain works, they just increased the speed at which it processes information. I’m… not sure where I was going with this - hmm, see? - but we aren’t removing any of your experiences. You aren’t a  _ project  _ to me, alright? I  _ care about you _ . Whether you use a brace or not doesn’t  _ erase  _ you. And, honestly? It’s still too early to tell. You very well  _ might  _ be able to bridge this gap all on your own, with that… infamous willpower of yours.”

“My mom called it stubbornness.”

“I don’t give a damn what either of our parents said about  _ anything _ .”

She laughed, and I gently set her hand down. Then she drew it into her lap, folding it along with the other, and asked if that was all for the day. 

“Sure,” I said. “We’ll try again tomorrow.”

***

The following day, we finally gave the pen a try. 

Not the usual, fine-point ink pen Ezri kept for her communiques, but a much thicker, more brightly colored marker. I slipped it from Rali’s collection of art supplies early in the morning, before she was awake, but I had every intention of returning it to her at the end of the day. In fact, I’d had a  _ surprise _ planned…

After watching Ezri persist, hour after hour, trying to pick up the marker and twist open the cap, trying to make letters in only one language at a time, I wanted her to have something  _ relaxing _ to look forward to. 

Between these shaky attempts we broke for lunch, and Ezri entered into another defiant staredown with her spoon. Then her glare shifted up to my office replicator, which primarily provided me with coffee, and my patients with simple medicinal compounds and basic splints and bandages. 

“Can this one make food?” Ezri asked, with a flippant gesture toward the input screen. “No offense, but I don’t think I’ll like the stuff you packed for us.”

“There’s a collection of Earth recipes in the secondary hard drive,” I said; I wasn’t bothered. 

She stood and leaned in to the screen, addressing it like it was a close personal friend. Meanwhile, I reached to remove only  _ one  _ of the lunches I had packed for us, composed of freeze-dried fish sticks and an assortment of seasonal Cardassian vegetables. 

“Borscht, cold, please,” Ezri said slowly to the computer.

“Ugh,” I said, more loudly than I intended to. 

“I’ve never tried it, either,” she said, like it was an apology. “Worf mentioned it a few times. I thought it might be best for me to start with something cold, in case I make a mess.”

“Ezri, we’re taking a  _ break _ . I brought finger-foods on  _ purpose _ , so you could give your right hand a  _ rest  _ for a while.”

I was not about to sound frustrated at her persistence, though - not if it was something I just swore to uphold and defend from the mere mention of her mother. 

“It’s a different type of movement,” she reasoned. “Besides, I’ve only got another week with you. I want that to be enough.”

“Don’t hurt yourself.”

“I was doing okay with the pen,” she went on. 

I was not arguing, and moved to pull out her chair for her, as an invitation to go ahead, sit down, and eat her soup. Beets were not an item I could appreciate by scent, taste, or texture, but I kept to myself while she stirred the mixture with a mostly-steady hand and then finally prepared to take a bite. 

She leaned low over the shallow dish, scraping around the rim to fill her spoon - making a few  _ clack _ ing sounds as she tried to raise it - and then the whole thing went clattering down. Choking back a sob - dry and pained, by the sound of it - she set to fishing the spoon out of the broth. Her fingertips came up stained, deep red and twitching. 

“Ezri,  _ please _ .”

In a rush, I dragged my chair around the corner of the desk, so I could sit beside her. I tried not to be overly forceful when moving her hands away, steadying them in my own, bringing them up for her to see. 

“You need to be patient with yourself,” I said firmly. “You  _ need  _ to be. This isn’t the answer; this isn’t sustainable. You need to eat  _ something _ , and then we can try again when we’re both calmed down a little.”

I felt as though I was speaking to Rali after an unsuccessful redirection - Ezri even had the pout of a lectured child, in that moment - but ultimately she allowed me to direct her hands. But I would still not overturn all of her progress - or desired progress, at least - so I retrieved the spoon for her, helped her nestle it between her thumb and fingers, and used my own hand to guide her through the rest of the process. Each time I deemed her breath too shaky, or on the verge of tears, I would pause - of course I would not  _ force  _ her to eat if she was having difficulty breathing - and she would mumble out words of gratitude before agreeing to the next bite. 

“This is so embarrassing,” she added, when we were nearly finished with the contents of the bowl. 

“It shouldn’t be,” I assured, “you wanted treatment, and you’re getting it. Is that a reason someone should be embarrassed?”

“I guess not. I just-- I thought I was doing well, at least I didn’t really notice any changes. I was so busy. I wasn’t writing anything, I didn’t notice trading hands off while I ate, and then when Dax came home… is that it?”

“It could have exacerbated any existing problems with your motor control, by interfering with your mental processing of those cues, yes.”

“You sound so calm,” she said, with a jabbing laugh at the end. 

“Because it’s a non-issue. We know Dax can communicate telepathically with its hosts in short-range, and even with Rali when they were both… inside you, at the same time. I know you can handle this, and it won’t have any lasting detrimental effect on your life. You  _ are  _ making progress.”

“I don’t want to send Dax away just so I can  _ write  _ to my family.”

“And it won’t come to that. That hasn’t even crossed my mind as a possibility. If you can be  _ patient _ , we can get through this. It’s been an important part of your life, and you don’t need to erase it completely. Think about  _ us _ , hmm? We’re still very involved in each other’s lives. You wouldn’t tell any of  _ your  _ patients to just… overlook part of their identity and experience, would you? Of course you wouldn’t, and neither would I.”

She sighed and made a half-hearted apology to me, which I accepted so she would not feel any more embarrassed. It was not necessary, but again, there was no reason to tell her that. She needed to be acknowledged, right now, and I understood how she felt. There was frustration for falling behind her peers, the difficulty of maintaining a relationship with someone who caused the problems to worsen, and it  _ hurt  _ me. 

“Sweetheart,” I said, in spite of myself. It was what I called Rali, most often. “ _ I know _ . I know.”

Despite the strange placement of our chairs, one beside the other, I could embrace her tightly around one shoulder. I brought her cheek against mine, resisting every urge to shiver at the always-unexpected chill of her skin. When I drew back, I kissed this same place, then cupped it in my hand. 

“We  _ are  _ going to take a break now, alright?” I said. 

“You’re right.”

“And I’m going to make a call,” I added, stretching to extricate myself without leaving her feeling totally abandoned, “but I’ll be right here.”

“Sure.”

I opted not to record a voice message, and instead simply typed out my request to Elim: start on his way over to the medical center with Rali and her art supplies in tow. It was not a long journey by tram, and I expected I could keep Ezri occupied and in a relatively positive mood until they arrived. She made a nervous admission that this was all unexplored territory - as we learned to understand the long-term effects of separating hosts and symbionts - and I promised to be with her every step of the way. We discussed Dax’s presence contributing to Ezri’s condition, and compared this to the confusing way Rali must have seen the world in Dax’s  _ absence _ . That lead to Dax influencing Ezri’s thoughts only  _ once _ to a notable degree, shifting her toward missing Rali’s presence desperately. 

“Well, it’s feeling that same ‘empty nest’ sensation without her at home,” I said, lightly. “I imagine spawning will help.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it will. It’s been a lot more talkative, since we found a bigger tank for both of them to share. You should see some of the prints, I’ve never seen it so excited.”

“Hmm,” I sighed fondly as I imagined it. “You could send some over. I’m sure Rali would love to see them too. Oh, umm-- right, she will. But I’d like to, myself, I--”

“I know what you mean. She might be back here someday, who knows.”

“We both know she belongs on Trill,” I said, making an effort to smile. “She needs somewhere she can fit in, truly.”

“I know. But her family  _ here _ has been doing a pretty great job, too.”

At this point, there was a soft rap on my door, and I checked the camera screen before giving the command for it to open. Then, because it was Rali and Elim coming in, I  _ left  _ it open, for their comfort. It was not a large office, and I was not interested in repaying Elim’s favor by potentially triggering his claustrophobia. 

“Rali! Hi, sweetie!” Ezri said, rushing forward to give her a hug. 

“Hello, Elim,” I said, more calmly, but with the same underlying affection. 

He offered his arm out, with Rali’s case of art supplies in his hand. I helped him arrange this on the table, clearing away our more-or-less finished lunches. Then, together, we unlatched the case and opened it, and Rali arrived just in time to unpack it for us - sitting in her mother’s lap and arranging the kit’s contents exactly as she liked them. 

“I thought a little finger-painting session might do you some good,” I said, smiling down at Ezri, while wrapping an arm casually around Elim’s back. “Use either hand, use both if you like.”

“I think that’s an excellent idea,” Ezri replied. 

Already, Rali had slotted a jar of paint into Ezri’s hands, waiting for her help to open it. Ezri did not need  _ my  _ encouragement, not with her biggest supporter right there in her lap, beaming back at her. 

With a grunt but no other obvious signs of distress, Ezri successfully twisted the lid off of the jar and set it carefully on the desk. 

“There we go,” she said, returning a smile to Rali. “Where do you like to start? Right at the top of the page?”

She moved her fingers to indicate the place in question, and Rali agreed by placing her  _ own  _ fingers there, already having submerged them in paint. 

“Can we share?” Ezri went on, voice softer than I’d heard in years, “or do you want me to make my own?”

Rali did not answer this without further prompting; she was preoccupied with the red stains on Ezri’s fingertips, leftover from our lunchtime ordeal. 

“Rali,” I began, “did you hear Mum’s question? Do you want to share with her, or are you working on something special by yourself? You have to--”

My answer came in the form of her shuffling through the craft kit for another piece of paper, making room for it beside her own. Then she set to work diligently, painting intentionally oversized spots with her forefingers. I could recognize a phonetic  _ ee  _ sound even from a distance - as it featured in both of their names, as well as Jadzia’s... although I never saw where her name appeared on her skin, I had the unique pleasure of seeing her consciousness guide my own hand to write it during Ezri’s zhian’tara ceremony… 

As I watched them, I got the sense Ezri knew  _ she  _ was the subject of Rali’s artwork, so she returned the gesture by copying down the little patch of spots from the back of Rali’s hand. Then, when Rali noticed, she squealed with delight, and nothing in the world could make me find the sound annoying or embarrassing, and then--

A distantly familiar voice came in from the doorway, and I felt Elim shifting to stand more forcefully between me and the threshold. It all happened so quickly. I wondered what was  _ wrong  _ with me, why my mind suddenly  _ refused  _ to keep the pace.

“You’re hard to find, you know,” the voice said. 

It was my father. 

“... _ Find _ ?” I asked, furrowing my brows and suddenly feeling like a certain helpless seven-year-old. And I had been, at one point, under the unchanging scrutiny of this man. 

I was aware of Elim moving again, making a barricade of himself. I did not expect a physical altercation, but of course I did not expect to see him again,  _ ever _ , either. I had pulled myself from Starfleet, taken up residence on a non-Federation planet in a house kept safe by two former intelligence agents, I--

“I found record of a Mrs. Tigan-Bashir, several years ago,” Richard went on. No wedding anywhere on the books, certainly no invitation sent my way. No annulment. I hoped nothing bad had happened to you, Julian. That’s all.”

I wanted to say so many things. But I feared, like I  _ always  _ had, that I was not understanding him properly, that something was wrong with me. He might ask for something blue and I would bring him something red… Elim had turned me to face Ezri and Rali, sitting stunned quiet over their respective paintings. I couldn’t take this anymore. 

However blank my face must have been in this moment, Ezri was aware of my need to surrender, and she did not make me feel embarrassed. She merely stood, passed our daughter from her arms to mine, and marched off to join Elim in blocking the door. 

“You weren’t invited here, either,” she said firmly. “You should go. Right now. Our marriage is none of your business.”

“I wanted to meet the new additions to my family,” he argued. “My daughter-in-law, my… is that my grandchild…?”

He had an easy time peering over Ezri’s shoulder. But Elim would not stand for it. No sooner than his momentary glimpse at Rali, and Elim was reaching to slam the door shut. Rali and I were safe inside, all by ourselves. 

Oh, but we could hear them. 

“I assure you,” Elim said, in a loud growl, “she is no relative of yours.”

Rali looked to me, and I saw my own feelings of helplessness and confusion reflected back at me, but I would  _ not  _ be  _ that  _ father - the one standing outside feeling entitled to any of our lives because he could not find lasting worth in his own. I  _ made  _ my own successes, and I would watch Rali make hers too, in time. 

“Taya Elim,” she said, voice wavering. It must have pained her to hear him yell. 

“Yes, that’s him,” I explained, cradling her in my arms. “He’s keeping us safe. We’re safe in here, you and I. Is it too loud? He isn’t upset with  _ you _ , sweetheart.  _ Is it too loud _ ?”

She answered with a scowl, and I wished I had something more to offer than my hands cupped over her ears. 

“It’ll be over soon,” I said, mostly to reassure myself. “Taya Elim and Mum both  _ love  _ you sweetheart. They’ll be back in just a moment…”

“Oh, you picked the  _ wrong _ day, Richard—” I could hear parts of Ezri’s argument. “Your son is the kindest, most  _ compassionate _ man— and no thanks to you, by the way!” 

“She was--” Richard replied, awkwardly, “Jules was  _ always  _ a sweet little girl, I never m--”

I felt a coldness in my chest, a stiffness, like a long-dead anger being brought back to life, raising its arms, scratching the walls of my throat. I leaned in closer to Rali, reluctant to let her see me so upset. As my father spoke, I realized what liberties the station translator must have taken for me, ignoring my parents insistence in favor of my comfort, safety, and  _ official record _ . 

Just as I was about to forgive him the slip - as I held my own daughter and realized my love would be the same if Rali were my son, or the way it did not matter to me whether Ezri blurred together past pronouns without relation to her physical dichogamous phases - he pressed too far. 

“What I did for my daughter,” he said, “was only done to  _ help  _ her.”

“You wouldn’t know what ‘help’ was if it hit you in the face,” Ezri raised her voice now, as well. I steadied Rali in my arms. “Your  _ son  _ is gentle, kind, compassionate… no one is a project to him. He’s the best doctor I’ve ever known, and you did  _ nothing  _ to ‘help’ him get there.” 

“But can you imagine what kind of life she might’ve led, without me?”

“ _ A happy one!”  _ Ezri said, through clenched teeth. “The one  _ our  _ daughter is going to live, without you  _ anywhere near her _ .”

“Oh,” he said, condescendingly, “is she a bit slow?”

And then, from what I could tell, it sounded like she  _ did  _ hit him in the face. The slap rang out clearly, and so did the gasps that came from both Ezri and my father, immediately afterward. 

“I believe that’s all the ‘ _ help’  _ we can give you,” Elim added, in his most threatening tone of voice. “Don’t come back.”

The next thirty-two seconds felt immeasurably longer, as I focused my hearing on retreating footsteps, and then, mercifully, on the security code being tapped into my door panel. 

Ezri came in first, then Elim, who thought for a moment before removing his hand from the control, deciding to let the door seal shut behind him. Then he came to stand beside my chair, and Ezri pulled up her own to my side of the desk, leaning in to assess all of us like the professional she was. 

She stroked her fingers through Rali’s hair, soft and newly-cut. With the same gentle touch, she dislodged my hands from the sides of Rali’s head, where I had been trying to block out the noise for her. Ezri squeezed my hands as she set them down at my sides, clearing enough room to take Rali into her lap. Then, she rolled her chair back to the other side of the desk, where their half-finished paintings were still sitting. There was a dry crust beginning to form around the top of the paint jar, and I breathed a sigh of relief when Rali took Ezri’s silent cue to reach in and stir it back to life. 

“He won’t be back,” Elim explained. 

“No, I don’t think so,” Ezri agreed. “We can stay  _ right here  _ until we’re all done. We know it’s hard to… leave… before we’re ready.”

“I’m sorry, Rali,” Elim added. “Please forgive me for disturbing you.”

Rali thought for a moment, shrugged, and said “Dax” in an amicable enough tone. 

Ezri kissed the top of Rali’s head, and then returned her fingers tentatively to her own jar of paint. While she painted, she looked past the canvas and directly at me, meeting my eyes and reassuring me silently. 

“If you want to talk about it later--” she eventually began. 

“No, that’s alright. Thank you, both of you, for looking out for me. I’m not going to talk about him, he doesn’t deserve it.”

“That’s exactly right,” Ezri said gently. 

Feeling renewed - and after giving Elim’s hand a squeeze just as Ezri had done to steady me - I leaned over the table to study the works in progress. Ezri’s had recently become more abstract than accurate, and I touched the dried portion of it with my fingers. Rali watched me. 

“I recognize these,” I said, moving from the paper to the back of her hand, where the same pattern was cast into her skin, permanently. 

Then, moving my hand lightly enough to just  _ barely  _ tickle her, I jumped from her hand to the side of her neck, tapping on the spots I wanted to indicate. 

“That’s where it says… hmm, let me see,” I said, leaning in more closely, steadying her head as she giggled, “that’s where it says ‘cleverest girl in the universe.’ Look at that!”

“It doesn’t--” she laughed. “It doesn’t say  _ that _ !”

“No? Hmm. I thought it did. And then it says how sweet you are, right?”

“And how silly Dad is,” Ezri added, while Rali vehemently shook her head, denied this, and  _ laughed _ . 

“It says Rali Sitreyet Bejima Loza Tezh’ely--”

“I know your full name, sweetheart,” I reminded her, before she got lost in reciting the entire phonetic composition of her spots to me. “I wanted  _ you  _ to know what a good girl you are.”

Her smile forgave my transgressions, and taught me there was  _ no  _ similarity which I could use to forgive my father. So, happily aware of this fact, I sat and painted silly pictures with my family until the moons rose outside. 

***

Four days later, I was helping Ezri to secure the corner of a pennant banner to the wall. She had a steady enough grip on the tack, but not a high enough vertical reach to position the banner precisely where it needed to go. I leaned in at her side, waiting for her to set the tack in my hand, and then I finished the job for her. 

“Your hand seems much better,” I observed, dusting my own hands together as I took a step back, to see the banner from a distance. 

Garak had pieced it together for the celebration, using a variety of scraps - some of them cut into the shape of symbionts and then rejected from his project with Rali - and it did an effective job of highlighting the common room, making the archway more welcoming to our forthcoming guests. 

“Yeah,” Ezri said, tensing her fingers and then relaxing them again. “I guess I just needed to get some frustration out.”

“I can think of no better scenario for you to have done so,” Elim said, as he came in from the adjoining room. “Is there anything else I can do to help? The canape recipes you requested are downloading as we speak…”

“No, I don’t think so,” I said. “I mean, you could’ve told me about the party as soon as you knew about it… but I think we’ve rather passed  _ that  _ golden opportunity, haven’t we,  _ dear _ ?”

Elim raised his brow-ridges at me, both at once. 

“My  _ dear _ ,” he echoed back, “I was under the impression this was - and, indeed,  _ all  _ human observances of aging were - a  _ surprise party _ .”

I turned to Ezri and gave her a similar rendition of the expression Elim had given me. 

“I  _ never  _ said it was a surprise party,” she insisted. 

“No, of course not,” I agreed, taking her hand and reverently turning it over in my own. “But Dax likes all the drama it can get.”

“Well, it was nice of Dax to come visit, even if it made me, umm… confused. It’s easier for me to move past, now. I think it’s a much more  _ mild  _ Joining, with side effects like that.”

“ _ I  _ think it just really wanted to give my father a piece of its mind,” I said, amused.

“It didn’t know he was going to show up. That was probably my fault. I should’ve been more careful with my travel schedule - Federation records aren’t  _ that  _ hard to access - and I didn’t encode the invitations any higher than level one…”

“I noticed that,” Elim said.

“I wanted to make sure they would open on all the different platforms I was sending to. Earth, Cardassia, Bajor, Kronos… It’s my fault. He could’ve intercepted one  _ easily _ , especially if he’s been keeping tabs on my name since we got married.”

I shrugged, not seeing any reason to assign blame.

“He could’ve easily asked anyone on the  _ planet  _ where I worked, and they would’ve been able to give him exact directions,” I told her. 

“Yeah, but that’s not a bad thing,” she said. “You’ve treated so many of them, and probably taught classes to the rest. Of  _ course  _ they know where the medical center is.”

“Exactly. And he isn’t here  _ now _ , and I’m not going to give his memory the satisfaction of ruining our daughter’s birthday.”

As luck would have it, Ezri’s smile was the only satisfaction I needed. She took a few steps back to stand beside me, tilting her head back enough to study the full length of the banner, spanning nearly a meter down from the ceiling. Elim ducked back into the kitchen to tend to the replicator, which had beeped to signal its file download was complete. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, Ezri lunged forward and grabbed my hand, holding it and shaking it up and down. Despite this, her voice was soft and conspiratory, when she leaned in to whisper to me.

“Do you remember  _ your  _ fifth birthday party? Did you have one?”

“I probably did, but no, I don’t remember,” I said. “Why?”

She smiled again, more widely than before, and I could feel her breath ruffling my hair then getting lost on its way down my beard.

“ _ Surprise _ ,” she said. Then, with the same urgency, she dropped my hand back down to my side and went to meet Elim in the kitchen. “Garak, do you think you could help me put together a dart board?”

“I’m forty-one,” I sighed to myself, still more amused than anything. 

Elim, now attuned to Ezri’s conspiracy, stepped through the threshold only to drag me into the kitchen, too. 

“I don’t seem to remember  _ any  _ special observance for your  _ fortieth  _ birthday, my dear. Even though your  _ thirtieth _ brought so much… commotion. You  _ must  _ pick out a dessert, at least.”

As Elim showed me his own well-hidden repository of chocolate-based recipes, I had no arguments to make.

In the final stages of preparation, I alternated between arranging canapes with Ezri to setting decorative chocolate curls into the sides of the cake I ordered with Elim. Then I went outside to call Kelas and Rali in from the little adventure they had undertaken - digging for worms in the soil, actually - so Rali could change into a clean set of clothes before the guests began to arrive. As I complimented the clip Kelas had put in her hair for her, I felt suddenly… nervous. 

Not in a bad way, but the energy still made my breaths whistle and my fingers tremble, and I felt a deep sense of relief when I was finally called downstairs to answer the door. Ezri and Elim still had their hands full, so to speak, so Kelas and Rali accompanied me. Rali had placed her ‘Cardassian symbiont’ into a little jar of mud - the creature must’ve been thrilled to see any moisture in the soil, after so many years of drought… Kelas mentioned to me that the same worms would live for centuries in the same patch of ground… anyway--

She took great pride in showing it to each guest we greeted, just as I took pride in showing  _ her _ to them. 

“‘Bout time you invited us ‘round,” Miles said. 

His family was the first to arrive, all four of them carrying boxes wrapped in paper of muted tones. I assumed this was Keiko’s idea, having taught classrooms full of children before; I was not aware what specific sensory precaution Ezri had mentioned in the invitation, beyond noise. It was a thoughtful gesture, and I helped collect the boxes to arrange in the common room to be opened later. 

“I’m sorry,” I said. I genuinely meant it, and clapped my hand over his shoulder to prove it. “I guess ‘we’ve been busy’ isn’t as good an excuse after a few years, is it?”

“But it  _ is  _ true. Of all of us,” Miles reassured me, before stooping down to introduce himself to Rali, whom he teasingly referred to as ‘one of the reasons’ we’d been so preoccupied. 

She showed him the cup of mud instead of shaking his hand, and then she tentatively followed his hand as he gestured over to the lounge where Keiko had taken a seat with their children. 

“That’s Molly and Yoshi,” I explained, so Miles wouldn’t need to. “We can go over and say hello when you’re ready.”

Rali nodded, peered intently down into the mud again, and then looked back up at me with a questioning look in her eyes. 

“Yes, they might like to see that, too,” I told her. “But only when you say you’re ready, sweetheart.”

She remained standing in the corner with me a few minutes longer, gathering the courage to introduce herself. It was a routine she learned well enough at school, but it often required her to voice at least her name, and she was shy about using her voice at all around strangers. 

A chime at the door interrupted her progress, and she dashed into the kitchen to enjoy the relatively static company of Elim and Ezri, as opposed to my constant moving back and forth. Everyone would be settled in shortly, but in the meantime I understood her frustration. 

Kira and Ro arrived together, with Ro circling Kira at a good pace and short distance, giving the appearance that there were more than just the two of them. When they were both inside, Ro chose a vantage point a few paces behind Kira, who was dressed in her most elaborate set of Vedek’s robes - lavender and trimmed with gold to mark special occasions. She and I still kept in touch on a fairly regular basis, as I was technically in her employ, but she too had become busy with an expanding list of projects. After I returned from the Teplan homeworld, she read my reports and became increasingly involved in the Orphanage system on Bajor. Then, with Ro’s counsel, she stretched her resources out to include former Maquis settlements. Elim tended to read these updates over my shoulder, always distantly impressed and - in his own way,  _ appreciative _ \- to see good work being done with orphans of war. I know he would regret… well, whatever specific details he neglected to share with me, so many years ago… he would regret his inactivity surrounding the orphans during the Occupation for the rest of his life. I didn’t believe he shot down a shuttle full of them, but from Ro’s expression, she was not entirely convinced. 

She kept her distance and an obvious amount of skepticism, even when Elim was out of sight in the kitchen. When Miles came to greet Kira, her facial expression was the same, and I had to assume her caution was universal. It made me feel somewhat better, somewhat safer in fact. 

“Nerys,” I heard Miles say, “you look as radiant as ever.”

He kissed her hand then returned it to her side. Keiko called out to him from the lounge, where she was sitting and cutting an olive roll into segments to share with her children. Yoshi must have been nearly nine years old, but I could sympathize with a fellow picky eater when I saw one. He only tried some after his older sister did, and she reduced her description of the taste to a shrug. I thought Rali might get along well with her, uh… cousins… but she was still in the kitchen. 

“Really, Miles?” Keiko asked, barely glancing up from her tray. “That’s the mother of your child.”

Miles turned to give me a puzzled expression, but I had no advice to offer. Not quickly enough, anyway. He replied immediately, even though he was looking between Kira and myself instead of at Keiko. 

“What do you mean by that?” Miles was incredulous. “She’s a  _ vedek _ , I was trying to show some respect.”

I looked to Keiko in time to see her roll her eyes, then returned my attention to Kira. She was reaching in to take some study of Miles’  _ pagh _ , cupping her hand softly around his ear. While he was distracted by this, she added a kiss on the cheek to the traditional gesture. And when they pulled apart again, Ro stared him down, waiting to hear the verdict on his  _ pagh _ . 

“It’s an honor to see you, too,” Kira said, voice light. “I’m glad your family is well.”

“Chief…” Ro said over Kira’s shoulder, as the whole of her greeting. 

“Um…  _ Constable _ ,” Miles said back. 

Satisfied that my guests were capable of interacting without me for a few minutes, I went into the kitchen to see how my family was doing. Kelas was supervising the tea kettle while Elim was arranging more appetizers to set out in the common area. Rali and Ezri were seated together in the corner, underneath the makeshift dartboard Elim had apparently found time to put together for me. I couldn’t help but smile, which Elim returned as he passed me on his way out to the common room.

“How are you feeling?” I crouched down to Rali’s level, but posed the question to both her and Ezri. 

“It’s in there,” Rali said, looking down in awe at the worm in the jar. She tugged at the collar of her shirt, then repeated the phrase. 

“It’s not in  _ there _ , sweetheart,” I redirected her hand. “How are  _ you  _ feeling? Do you want to meet your cousins, or talk to Aunt Nerys?”

“Oh!” Rali said, sounding excited. 

She brought the jar along, and followed me into the common area, where the remainder of our guests - Worf, Natima, and Dedia - had all arrived. Rali always delighted in seeing Kira, even more so now with a ‘Cardassian symbiont’ to show off. I was happy to leave Rali in Kira’s care, both of them huddling over the jar and looking inside, and Kira explaining some of the traits of these creatures she was familiar with while Rali listened with rapt attention. 

“Oh, these little things keep the soil alive,” Kira explained, dipping her fingertips into the dirt, seeming to forget she was wearing an ornate set of gloves. “I don’t think  _ anything  _ would grow on Cardassia without them.”

Then she drew her finger out and gently poked Rali on the nose - the bridge of it, not the tip - smudging her with dirt and making her laugh. 

When I turned away from them, I could overhear all of the other conversations in turn. I did not  _ mean  _ to, of course, but it was a small space and my hearing was notably above average. And all of the topics had the added allure of being simply  _ fascinating _ , as well, making it hard for me to choose which to comprehend first.

Ro had recognized Kelas by name, and her stoic composure crumbled when she was offered the chance to meet them in person. They came out from the kitchen with the kettle full of boiling water, teacups all dangling precariously from one finger curled around their handles, and a dozen sachets of different ingredients clutched in the same fist. They arrived, too, with the thoughtfulness to make something appropriately homey for each of our visitors, and I felt a fond little pang of memory, yearning back to the time they were the only one Elim could open up to. It had not been so long ago - only a few years, in fact - but now I could feel glad about it, instead of envious. 

As it turned out, Ro had heard what she previously considered only  _ boryhas-ta  _ \- ghost stories, legends - about Kelas turning around to punch the labor camp guard who had just stripped away their medical uniform and shaved their head. Kelas invited her to touch their hair, which had been growing ever since, uninterrupted. Then they shared more peaceful anecdotes with her, about some of the Bajorans who had made their life bearable, some of the favors they returned, and some of the babies they had helped deliver in secret. She touched their hair reverently, remarking each time her fingers got caught on a bead. She would ask its significance, and Kelas always had an answer; I observed the mutual respect Bajorans and Cardassians had for symbolism. 

Elim had taken the opportunity to talk to Kira, further exploring her work with the orphanages. He agreed with her appraisal of Rali as ‘a joy’ and then swiftly promised to send a shipment of blankets as soon as he found suitable material. 

“I will miss the hands of my newest apprentice,” he said, gesturing down at Rali, who was standing happily between the two of them. “Her dexterity has improved  _ immensely  _ in the last few months alone.”

“I’m sure that’s all you’ll miss, huh, Garak?” she teased, “Her dexterity, for your sewing projects?”

“Well, if you insist on b--”

“I know, Garak. I know. You’ve given her a great home, for the time being. She’s a lucky little girl, to have  _ two  _ great homes always waiting for her.”

“Some day - very soon, I should hope - the orphans in your charge will be able to say exactly the same thing.”

I smiled at this exchange, but tried to duck my head out of sight. I was on my way back to the kitchen under some pretense or other, but all of the conversations were so  _ fascinating _ . Even Worf and Natima exchanged a few words about honor and leadership, Dedia complimented some of the baked goods and said a passing ‘hello’ to Kelas, Ezri stumbled out to be hugged by nearly  _ everyone  _ before sitting down between the O’Briens and sharing food and stories with them, talking about adjusting to separation, about navigating a relationship from a distance. Then Keiko and Worf compared just how quickly they thought Molly was growing, Ro came to ask Miles about the select few members of  _ The Enterprise  _ crew she found herself missing, Ezri revealed to Natima that she never traveled without a proper tongo deck from Quark’s collection, Natima thanked Elim belatedly for sparing her  _ life _ … 

It was fascinating, and it was overwhelming. Somehow I found myself standing in the middle of a very intricate web - perhaps a tapestry would make a more appropriate metaphor - of individuals whose lives were connected in these intensely personal ways. I had my fair share of important roles within it, of course, but I had a difficult time seeing them from the outside. And I was decidedly on the outside, moving further with each passing moment. Ezri was only visiting temporarily, taking Rali home with her in the morning, and all of our friends were gathered for even a shorter time than that!

There was no use sulking about it, but I must have sighed loudly enough for Elim to hear. I was not unhappy, not  _ really _ , and I felt better almost instantly upon seeing Elim politely drop his conversation in favor of tending to me. 

Love was all around me. 

“You seem… preoccupied,” he said softly. 

“It’s just a bit, um… noisy in here. I can hear  _ everything _ ; I’m not sure what I should be focusing on. It seems like everyone’s got these  _ amazing  _ things to talk about and I’m just… kind of standing here. Listening.”

“My dear, I am sorry to say that despite your  _ impeccable  _ hearing, you would’ve made an  _ awful  _ intelligence agent.”

I appreciated his roundabout compliment, and I found it more fun to be distracted than to be purely pitied and consoled over nothing. 

“Is that so?” I asked. 

“It is. You’re seeking evidence of where  _ you  _ fit into all of our lives?  _ Julian… _ ” he said, in an even quieter voice, “the longer you stare into a landscape - and you must be patient and careful not to give yourself away, of course - the more obvious the opponent’s camouflage becomes.”

“What if my  _ opponent _ ,” I teased, “isn’t moving either,  _ dear _ ? What if they see me move before I see them?”

“Well, if you insist on expanding on the trite metaphor from my academy days, what we are doing now is a training exercise amongst our allies, only. We are improving our complementary strengths. And you have  _ me  _ here to guide you, and help you to notice any of the clues which may be passing you by. But I don’t think they are… look closely.”

When I did as Elim suggested - switching my focus as best I could from hearing to  _ seeing _ \- I saw evidence of my involvement everywhere. Ezri and Rali were demonstrating a hand-sign to Worf, who was content to sit with them in virtual silence. Kelas had finished distributing their sampling of teas and prepared mine last - honeyed peach and coriander, an absurd but enlivening blend they perfected  _ just for me _ \- and they intently watched it brew before standing up to offer it to me. 

I took it, sipped it, thanked them, and then tucked them into place between Elim and myself, with my arm around their shoulders. 

Then I looked to Kira, seeing all of her tenacity reflected now in softer but equally effective  _ grace _ . I saw my employer and my friend, who took repeated chances on me to settle a score I had never hung over her head in the first place. That was just who she was. 

I saw Miles trying some Cardassian canapes off of a tray, and he showed no sign now of resenting them. In fact, he seemed more unimpressed by the selections  _ I  _ had programmed, my own  _ sinful  _ modifications of his Earth staples. I was reminded of how reluctantly our friendship had blossomed, but how it remained intact despite the distance. From there, I returned to the recent memory of the altercation with my father, where Ezri and Elim stood up to defend me without a question. 

And I felt reassured. 

Then, to finish it all, my eyes were drawn to Ezri’s hand. She was drawing something from her pocket and then waving it up for me to see, and Elim nudged me to tell me I had made the correct move in our private little game. 

“Do you want to pick teams?” she asked. “You first, birthday boy.”

She was gripping a full set of darts in her hand, and the metallic flights caught the light and my attention. 

“Oh, that’s right,” Miles chimed in purely to joke with me, “do you want us to sing, or anything?”

“Yes. Um… no,” I caught myself rambling. “Yes, I’ll pick teams. And no, you don’t need to sing, or ‘anything.’ My birthday was in September.”

“That’s  _ right _ ,” Miles echoed himself. “And we’re well into Febr--”

“--The third lunar phase of  _ Devetek _ winter--” I said, giving the Cardassian season instead. 

I suppose I was fitting in quite well, then. 

“Yeah. That,” said Miles. 

“You know what? Let’s draw for teams randomly. I can explain cricket rules to anyone who hasn’t played before, it’s pretty straightforward… and I’d, er… I’d be  _ honored  _ to play alongside any combination of you.”

“Or we should be honored to play alongside you, is that it?” Miles provided his own interpretation. 

“Sure,” I grinned, “if that’s how you want to see it.”

He and I ended up on opposite teams for the first round, and the same team for the second. I admit I lost track of time, between explaining the game and then enjoying two exciting rounds of it, with sufficient breaks in between for us to to talk and pass around the trays of leftover snacks and slices of cake. Rali set a carefree example for us, removing just the frosting and the orange jelly center to eat with her fingers. 

It was a lovely party - not too loud - and both of us had a lovely time. A bit of strain crept into my voice when we finally saw everyone off at the end of the evening - I had been talking steadily, and it occurred to me how much I would miss them, again, and that combination left my throat hoarse. Many of them offered some comfort - a hug, or a quiet affirmation that it  _ had  _ been a nice party, and a great time to catch up. That dulled the social withdrawal somewhat, but it left me with the clear and looming fact that Rali would be departing with her mother in the morning. 

Elim was not going anywhere, though, which he reminded me on our way back up the stairs at the end of the night. Poor Rali was exhausted, but her patience did not seem any worse for wear, and she put up with my fussing as I tucked her into bed. Elim waited in the doorway, and he only stepped aside when Ezri came in to take his place. He was always gracious about this - being a part-time parent, but a very good and important one, even if he insisted Ezri was better and  _ more  _ important. But I would see him again soon - that night, and the next, and the next, and the next--

She came in and knelt next to me, at Rali’s bedside. I was smoothing panels of her blanket out with my fingers, tucking them between the slats that kept Rali safely in bed. It was a wondrous piece of fabric Elim sourced for us, thin and conducive to cooling, but heavy enough in weight to help Rali feel secure. 

“Hey,” Ezri whispered. 

Rali was asleep already, of course, tired after a full day of activity, and Ezri was nothing if not considerate of one’s limits. 

“Hello,” I said back, at the same volume. 

“We’ll send you a message as soon as we land,” she said.

“I’m already looking forward to it.”

“Hmm,” she sighed, but sounded happy. “We’re not doing too bad at this, are we? This whole adjusting thing, I mean. Going away and coming back, being apart and then together again…”

“I think we’re doing our best. Yes, absolutely.”

“I know you’ll miss each other, Julian.”

“Of course. But it’ll be nice for her to see the symbionts again. She might, er… she might have an easier time communicating with them than any of us do, if the trouble you had with your hand can serve as any indication. I mean, just in general--”

“Not as a  _ project _ . I know."

“Exactly. But whatever input it’s been giving telepathically to your symbiotic nerve, I think that’s  _ precisely  _ what Rali needs to feel comfortable communicating. Don’t you?”

“Yeah. She’s definitely— hi, sweetie …”

I must’ve said Rali’s name too loudly, because her eyelids promptly unstuck from one another, and she blinked slowly up at us, as if in a daze. Poor thing, it looked as though I interrupted a pleasant dream. I tried to make myself equally enjoyable, in its stead.

“Hello, sweetheart,” I said gently. “Did you like your birthday party?”

Ezri turned and pursed her lips, as if silently posing the same question to  _ me _ . 

“Yes,” Rali said. “We should have more.”

“I think two at a time is plenty,” I said, returning Ezri’s gaze only after bending to kiss Rali’s forehead. “Maybe you can have one for the new symbiont when it arrives, hmm?”

“Definitely,” Ezri said. Then, privately to me, she added: “You get  _ three  _ a year when you’re Joined, you know. Yours, the symbiont’s, and the Join-date. That’s why I was so upset you couldn’t remember yours, from childhood. Those are the only ones you get to yourself.”

“Oh, but I don’t mind sharing,” I said. “And you put together a  _ perfect  _ replacement. Honestly, I couldn’t’ve asked for anything more.”

We went quiet again, waiting for Rali to return to sleep. Then Ezri and I stood up, and she followed me as I began pacing the room, quietly compiling some of Rali’s possessions to take on the journey. Most of her clothes and some of her toys would be staying, but those she liked best would  _ certainly  _ be making the trip. Anything to make her comfortable.

With this in mind, I stopped and opened a compartment in the wall. I kept a supply of Rali’s chewable motion-sickness supplements in there, and inside a securely sealed jar. They were brightly colored, fun for her to count and consume when necessary, but of course safely out of reach. I removed the jar to change the security program from recognizing my biometrics to Ezri’s, while she watched and seemed to take her own tally of the individual pieces inside. 

“Wow, got enough of them in there?” she teased, keeping her voice quiet. 

“Yes,” I said, without missing a beat, “that’s a year’s supply, assuming you make one trip to and from Cardassia every... week.”

“That might be a  _ little bit  _ optimistic.”

I shrugged, and handed the whole jar to her as soon as the update was finished. 

“It’s best to be overprepared, in my experience. She can take up to two in a six hour period, the dosing information is on the side panel. They should work for you, as well, if you don’t want injections.”

“Okay,” Ezri was patient with my fussing, as ever. “Thank you. I’ll put them in my suitcase. Is there anything else we should grab right now?”

I considered the full mental list I kept of every item Rali owned, and others she borrowed and enjoyed. Some would be staying with us, in case she ever visited or needed to return on a semi-permanent basis. But the rest were her own, and she would come to rely on them to make her feel at home wherever she was. She had already adjusted so well to our home on Cardassia, and to my shuttle, and to the rooms we sometimes visited on the station, and I--

It was not only about me; we would both feel the weight of the distance, very soon. 

“Her plush symbiont, but it’s probably under her pillow right now. Just be sure you don’t forget it, in the morning.”

“I’ll be sure,” she said kindly. “Come on… we could all use some sleep.”

She brought her arm around my shoulder and escorted me from Rali’s dim bedroom, down the hall, and to the doorway of my own. It was kept open for Elim’s comfort, and allowed Kelas to come and go as they pleased, but I did not really feel like going inside at that moment. I thanked Ezri for everything again, remained where I was until she went and situated herself in the guest room, and then I traipsed down to my workroom. 

Kelas had used it to see patients, then converted it into a basic lab, and then extended permissions to me. I primarily used it when I needed a quiet area for research, or editing students’ exams. I closed the soundproof door behind me, and sat down to start a recording. The computer screen flickered into life, and I tapped the microphone several times before clearing my throat and beginning, not concerned with how  _ professional  _ it would sound. I simply needed to get the words out, as they had occupied my mind for so long without coming to fruition. 

_ Ahem…  _

_ A personal study, by Doctor Julian Bashir, Professor of Emergency Medicine at the Cardassian Medical Institute. This has um… nothing to do with that, really… I’m reluctant to even label it a ‘study,’ as it concerns a topic very personal to me.  _

_ This is a collection of my thoughts and observations on The Long-term Effects of Separation, Especially with Regard to Creating Mutually Beneficial Relationships. My fascination with this began in the context of Trill Symbiosis, but it has evolved and grown into the way I navigate my own family structure. I hope you’ll forgive my omission of names and other identifying details, because these are no longer my patients or subjects. These are individuals that are ‘home’ to me.  _

_ First, we achieved a successful communication pattern that could be reliably copied by symbionts in rehabilitation pools as well as those residing within hosts. We were able to distinguish their thoughts and desires separately from whatever other organisms they were living with at the time of the communication. We were able to achieve separation in the case of parties who wanted it, and we began rethinking the procedures both prospective hosts and symbionts would need to follow before pursuing Joining in the future. But then we began to observe lingering effects, where some hosts had difficulty adjusting to their symbiont’s presence or absence, equally. There were both physical and mental gaps observed, including changes in dexterity, loss of pre-Joined memories and ambitions, even taste preferences in food and drink.  _

_ But in all of this, I find the Trill make up a… charming biracial structure. Rich and fascinating throughout their history, and drawn time and time again to underpinnings of community and closeness, defined almost completely by empathy - selflessness, in every sense of the word. Even those who have never been Joined take special roles in communicating to symbionts, caring for them, and campaigning for their rights. We no longer need to guess at these, anymore, and we are seeing revolutionary changes in the way symbionts are integrated into decisions on their own - not requiring a host to use their voice. We hope, also, to begin seeing changes in prospective hosts. We hope to see them gain confidence; so many of them, in the past, were overridden by symbionts, because the hosts were trained and conditioned while the symbionts were not. We have made the process completely mutual. We have taken steps to ensure autonomy throughout these relationships, as well as appropriate physical and emotional therapy to ensure those who are Disjoined are able to live productive, full lives.  _

_ I look upon all of these individuals, now, as members of my extended family. My first partner and I are separated but still interested in creating a supportive structure for our child, and indeed for each other. We spend quality time together as often as our schedule allows, and I cannot help but think our interactions linger in each other’s memories even after each separation. I wonder, on almost a constant basis, what benefit this has done to shaping our child’s worldview, and how our child will learn to communicate in this new society. I could not be more proud of - and thrilled for - the changes we have made.  _

_ I plan to continue documenting my feelings on the matter, although I cannot promise any improved level of detail, as I watch my child adapt to this welcoming society from afar. As I watch her navigate this entirely new communication structure, and this network of individuals all invested in her success regardless of their closeness at any given time. I am one of them, even from another planet.  _

_ End transcript. For now.  _


End file.
